


Confessions of An Angel

by orphan_account



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Angst, Hurt Tony, Hurt/Comfort, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Steve's thoughts, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:49:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Sometimes, Steve thinks about Tony....





	Confessions of An Angel

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely misbehavingvigilante <3

I want to breathe, and I want to think, and I want to exist without the constant fear of losing you.

But today, you fell. The frail, smoking remains of your wings cradled your burned body as you plummeted thousands of feet through the air, utterly dead weight and nothing more. You foolish demon- you  _ selfish _ man. Who told you to sacrifice yourself like that? Had I failed in the thousands of years of knowing you and trying to chase away that darkness?

Crouching low, I did not think, I did not breathe, as I launched into the sky to catch you, the air seemingly painfully thin like paper and barely registering to my lungs. Your head lolled on my shoulder and I wept.

I hoped you hadn’t left me.

But then you heaved a rejuvenating gasp and coughed weakly against my shoulder, eyelashes fluttering against soot-covered cheeks. I can’t remember whether it was your tears or mine that was dripping down your face.

I nursed you back to health, like every other battle we had shared in the past. Your doe-like brown eyes grew brighter by the day. And soon your wings grew back to their full, lush form, but the scars only dug even deeper crevices….

I can count the number of times that you’ve flinched away from my touch on one hand. Three separate events, but which were undeniably linked by the same chains that kept you bound and tied: fear of pain. For your skin and the very flesh of your bones- supple, muscular like a statue- have grown tired and weary of being abused, your mind even more so. And so we may lay in bed together, yes, but we can never touch. I’d rather that than have you far away, somewhere I can’t reach.

You mean far too much to me.

The sun settles down, and the sky is a bloody red. You sit morosely on the ledge of the landing pad, feathers rustling in the wind. I heard you in your dreams last night confess that it is the day of your reckoning. The day you vowed to start anew, and heal old wounds, and take a leap of faith into the unknown.

Except, I had not anticipated a kiss. I did not anticipate your warmth and heat- and God, had my bones been this cold all this time?- and the sweet, building pleasure tingling my lips. I cupped your cheek and kissed you deeper, harder, gentler until my eyes eased open and you pulled away. Breathing slightly shallow, your eyes bore into mine and smiled. And, for the first time since you fell, I finally felt whole. And that was the beginning of our marriage.

Had we both been angels, our wings would have alighted in flame gave birth to triumphant, golden feathers of light, but as you are a creature of darkness, this could not happen. When we kissed, your wings merely fluttered in the wind. My eyes grew wet with tears because I could not help but feel pity all over again for The Merchant of Death: the man who only knew pain. Pretty words would never be enough to placate you, so instead, I drew.

I drew your serious face, smudged and stained lightly with grease. I drew your relaxed wings as you sat and enjoyed a cup of coffee in the kitchen. I drew your strong hands, thick knuckles gripping tools tight as you started feverishly on a new project. I drew your curious eyes as they peered outside the passenger side window of the car. I never stopped drawing you and couldn’t seem to stop, no matter how hard I tried.

I was simply obsessed.

My beautiful, precious Tony, what would it take to make you see the beauty in your soul, I wonder? No matter, I will endeavor to try and keep trying as the years of our marriage goes on. For nothing means more to me than seeing you breathe. No, nothing more and nothing less.


End file.
